Through The Smoke
by valleyforge
Summary: A sequel to From The Ashes. Crais & Crichton, round two. Contains spoilers from the final four episodes of season three.


Setting: A sequel to From The Ashes. The story takes place one weeken after Dog With Two Bones. Crais, Crichton and Aeryn have landed Talyn on the planet Auzool to make repairs. Contains spoilers from 3.19 through 3.22.  
  
Authors note: Another big thank you to my betas, SciFiChick66 and DJ3cats. I really appreciate all your help! This story has also been posted elsewhere under Valleyforge.  
  
Disclaimer: Farscape belongs to the Jim Henson Company, Hallmark Entertainment, Nine Network Australia and the Sci-fi Channel.  
  
THROUGH THE SMOKE  
  
Aeryn watched the marauder break through the planet Auzool's cloud cover, skimming dangerously close across the treetops, setting down in an unusually hard, abrupt landing. Whatever had just happened caused Crais to bring ship down fast. The part of the conversation she had heard before the communications link went dead sent her running toward the craft, pulse pistol in hand. She was still fifty samats away when the ramp dropped and Crais strode briskly down it.  
  
"What happened up there?" she asked.  
  
Crais did not break stride or glance in her direction. Without a word, he continued brusquely toward Talyn's main hangar and disappeared inside.  
  
Aeryn ran up the landing plank, half expecting to find John Crichton dead inside. Instead, he was slouched in his seat behind the pilot's console, arms folded across his chest, his eyes fixed in an icy stare out the view screen. She eased into the second seat alongside him, keeping a rigid posture forward. "There is a bit more to flying a marauder than a prowler," she explained. "I imagine it will take a couple more lessons."  
  
John's responding laughter was dark, humorless. "That son of a bitch couldn't teach a monkey to scratch his ass. *You* can accompany him to the planet, I'll stay here with Talyn."  
  
"We've already been through that. Talyn needs Crais or me here right now. Since Crais is the one who made contact with the Viridian representatives, they will be expecting to meet with him. He cannot pilot a marauder by himself."  
  
"Oh really?" He swiveled the seat around to face her. "Don't be so sure. He just landed the damn thing all by his lonesome. I am not going back up with him, Aeryn."  
  
She hissed out a breath. "What happened this time?"  
  
"The same thing that always happens," he said, laughing through clenched teeth. "I made a mistake. I made one frelling mistake . . . something the great Captain Bialar Crais has never done. Then he flies off the handle and gives me his big Peacekeeper macho routine. I'm tired of his bullshit, okay? Everything is my fault. And I don't care what he says, that bastard still blames me for his brother's death."  
  
"I do not," Crais replied gruffly from behind them. He stepped forward, stopping just inside the hatch. "Although you believe *nothing* I say, that is the truth. Think what you will."  
  
Crichton cast a skeptical look in his direction.  
  
Crais moved to the center of the cockpit, not a dench further. "Auzool's nelvastatic upper atmosphere will temporarily shield us from Scorpius's long range scans. However, as reinforcements arrive he will begin low- level sweeps of every planet in the quadrant capable of shielding a Leviathan from his sensors. We must secure the krelmar plates to repair Talyn's stabilizer. I am afraid our time is growing short."  
  
"That was yesterday's headline," Crichton snapped. "You got anything new to add?"  
  
"I have a proposal," Crais turned to Aeryn as he spoke.  
  
"Hey, I'm over here!" Crichton yelled, stepping forward to face off with the exPeacekeeper in the center of the cockpit. "This business of always talking to Aeryn and pretending that I'm not here is something else I'm getting pretty damned tired of."  
  
"At least she is reasonable," he growled through his teeth, his hands balled into fists at his side.  
  
Aeryn narrowed her eyes at Crais, motioning toward Crichton with a tilt of her head. He grimaced, shifting reluctantly to face the human. "If I completely trusted the Viridians I would make the rendezvous myself in the transport pod, but I am skeptical. I may need support in the event it is a trap."  
  
Crichton rolled his eyes, but dipped his head in agreement.  
  
"T'sur, the Viridian Vice-Counsel, will also require proof that we have a marauder to exchange for their services and the currency. As I will not disclose our location, we have no choice but to meet them on neutral ground. I must have a copilot."  
  
"Then take Aeryn with you," Crichton said.  
  
"No," Crais replied without hesitation. "Aeryn must remain with Talyn. I am a better judge of his condition than you, Crichton; at least give me that much credit."  
  
Crichton nodded. "Agreed, but if the deal goes through and the Viridians take possession of the marauder, Aeryn is still going to have come after us in the transport pod. That leaves Talyn here completely alone."  
  
"For a brief time only; two arns, three at the most," Crais explained. "Our negotiations with T'sur and inspection of the stabilizer parts may take as much as half a solar day."  
  
"What do you propose?" Aeryn asked.  
  
"Officer Sun, *you* will train Crichton to fly the marauder. Once his training is complete, he will accompany me to the commerce planet Nebra for our rendezvous with the Vice-Counsel." Crais looked from one to the other with raised brow.  
  
"The man with the plan strikes again," Crichton said with a smirk.  
  
"And if during his training he manages to kill both of you, I am no worse off than I was before your arrival." Crais taunted the human with a smug grin. "But at least we can move-"  
  
"No," Aeryn said.  
  
"No?" the men asked in unison.  
  
"No! This is *not* going to continue!" For a microt she started to laugh under the strain. "The two of you act like children. Talyn's life is at stake and all you can do is argue. Who is right? Who thought of -"  
  
"Of course, Crais is right," John wisecracked. "He's always-"  
  
"Shut up, John!" Aeryn shouted. She stabbed a finger in his chest. "You and your smart little comments. Always making fun of everything he says. You never listen. You never think it's possible that someone else is right. And you!" she yelled, turning toward a bewildered Crais. "You are not our commanding officer. What makes you think you can give us orders?"  
  
Crichton cleared his throat. "No, Aeryn, I meant it. I really like Crais's idea. You should definitely be the one to teach me to fly the marauder."  
  
She bumped between them, strode to the hatch and turned, hands on hips. "And I meant what I said. The two of you are going to start behaving like adults. You still have several arns of training time. Since time is of the essence, I suggest you use it wisely." The heels of her boots pounded an angry cadence down the ramp, fading gradually into Talyn's landing bay.  
  
"Shit," Crichton finally muttered.  
  
"What is . . . shit?" Crais asked as both men continued to stare out the hatch.  
  
"What we're in up to our eyeballs," Crichton answered.  
  
Crais nodded.  
  
# # #  
  
"I have relayed the design specifications for Talyn's stabilizer to the Viridians," Crais said, pulling up the schematic. "The extension will be molded in five separate pieces with flexible welds adjoining them, here, here, and along the horizontal seams." He traced the lines on the three- dimensional diagram with his finger, glancing up for reaction. "The hydrohonium sleeve which wraps the extension will extend ten samats past the original break. Given time, I am optimistic that Talyn's tissue will regenerate and attach itself throughout the inside of the extension. Once that happens, the wrap can be removed."  
  
"Will he be able to starburst?" Crichton asked.  
  
Crais nodded. "In time. These graphs represent the density, conductivity and weight of Talyn's undamaged stabilizer. The overlay represents the krelmar extension."  
  
"Almost identical," Crichton observed.  
  
"Yes," Crais said with a slight grimace, "but it is not exact. However, once the pieces are in place I intend to make minor adjustments that I am confidant will restore the exact equilibrium."  
  
"Like getting your tires balanced," Crichton noted.  
  
Crais paused, carefully weighing his response. "Yes, exactly . . . balanced," he replied with unexpected civility.  
  
The two men had managed to put on quite a performance ever since they returned from the day's second training flight. Courteous. Patient. Compliant. Aeryn knew it had to be killing them. It was anyone's guess how long the truce would last, but one thing was certain; neither wanted to be the first to lose his temper.  
  
"So what do we know about these Viridians?" Crichton asked.  
  
Crais paced to the center of command and turned, his face its usual dark mask. It had been his idea to contact them to build the replacement stabilizer for Talyn. "Viridia has been at war with neighboring Hoon-dah for the past ten cycles. Both are nonSebacean races who are always in the market for weapons and ships, but only the Viridians possess the skills necessary to mold krelmar. It is an extremely unstable metal to work with in its natural liquid state."  
  
"So why don't they just build their own ships if they're so skilled?" the human asked.  
  
"A valid question," Crais said, nodding. "The Viridians are artisans. They can sculpt or construct almost anything imaginable, but lack the ability to create or design technological systems such as propulsion or guidance, even weaponry."  
  
"The Peacekeepers have used their services in the past in exchange for their older prowlers and transports," Aeryn added.  
  
"As payment for the marauder, T'sur has agreed to produce the stabilizer immediately. We will also receive provisions and one thousand kretmas." Crais straightened his jacket with an uncomfortable tug. "The marauder's compliment of tak-five torpedoes are included in the exchange, however the hammand and treblin pulse cannons are not. I intend to remove them tomorrow and place them aboard Talyn."  
  
Crichton's civility came to a screeching halt. "You're going to arm Junior again? What the frell is the matter with you, Crais? Don't you ever learn?"  
  
The former Peacekeeper turned to Aeryn. "The cannons will be manually-"  
  
Crichton caught Crais's arm and jerked him back in his direction. "You talk to *me* . remember."  
  
Crais's expression blackened as he snapped his arm free, then stepped into Crichton's chest. "The cannons will operate only under manual controls. They will not be connected to Talyn's systems or in any way responsive to him. He could not fire them anymore than he could fire your . . . Wi-no- na."  
  
Aeryn pushed Crichton aside. "And what if Talyn decides to take control of you again? Then who would be firing those guns?"  
  
Crais brought his hands up in front of his chest and curled them into fists. "It is the only way I can protect us, Aeryn. Every Peacekeeper in this quadrant is going to be searching for us. Once the stabilizer is repaired I expect eventually to be able to starburst again. I just do not know how soon . . . a solar day, a weeken? Perhaps it will take only arns. I cannot be certain. At least with the cannons we will stand a chance if we are detected."  
  
"He could be right," Crichton said, garnering a surprised look from Crais. "They're coming after us, we know that for damn sure. Until we can starburst we're sitting ducks. Maybe the cannons are a good idea."  
  
Aeryn's gaze seemed faraway as she slowly shook her head. "It appears we may have no choice. When will the stabilizer be ready?"  
  
"We take delivery on Nebra in one more solar day," Crais answered. "That gives us time to remove the cannons and uhm . . . " he cleared his throat, "complete Crichton's flight training."  
  
"And how is the training progressing?" she asked, biting back a grin.  
  
"The training?" Crichton shifted his feet and glanced toward the other man. "Well I'd say it's coming along real good, wouldn't you?"  
  
"Yes . . . good," Crais agreed.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I'm probably doing excellent," Crichton said, nodding briskly.  
  
"Good," Crais repeated evenly.  
  
# # #  
  
It took Crichton and Crais less than four arns to remove the marauder's two pulse cannons and mount them aboard Talyn. Working on the ground in a breathable atmosphere took arns off the process, the only drawback being the loss of weightlessness in transporting the five hundred pound guns. It had gone smoothly, as did Crichton's final flight lesson. By mid-afternoon there was nothing left to do but wait.  
  
Aeryn was taking her shift in command and Crais had retired to his quarters, leaving John bored and restless. Aeryn still refused to talk to him, other than to discuss Talyn, and talking to Crais was like having a conversation with a DRD, a damaged DRD. For one brief moment on the marauder as they progressed through the maneuvers, Crais had almost began to feel like a normal person to him. Almost. They would be spending the entire next day on Nebra together. John hoped like hell they could get through it without a hitch, like killing each other.  
  
It wasn't so much that he did not completely trust the Sebacean; the problem was trying to communicate with a guy who had so much starch in his shorts it was a miracle he could even sit down. Aeryn had been a Peacekeeper, yet she knew how to laugh, occasionally. At least she knew a joke when she heard one. Crais not only did not have a sense of humor, he got annoyed when he didn't get it, which was most of the time. Maybe he needed to approach the problem from a different direction. Crichton collected a few materials from Talyn's cargo hold and then headed for the maintenance bay. He had an idea.  
  
An arn later he commed Crais to meet him in the galley. He arrived several minutes before the exPeacekeeper, during which time he set up the board and playing pieces. He was seated at the table when Crais strode in, looking none too happy for being called out of his quarters without explanation.  
  
"Yes Crichton, what is it?"  
  
He motioned Crais to take a seat and then slid a cup of frosian tea across the table, the only beverage he could find aboard the ship. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in a little game of strategy to pass the time."  
  
Crais gave him a skeptical eye, a haughty grunt and sat down.  
  
Crichton eased forward, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes took on a steely blue glint. "What we have here is a game a of intense strategy. It's a favorite of men on earth. It's called . . . Star Wars."  
  
"Star Wars," Crais grumbled, somewhat bemused.  
  
"That's right," Crichton muttered, dead serious. "You have a red army and a black army. These round pieces each represent a starship."  
  
"A starship," Crais repeated.  
  
"That's right, a starship." Crichton picked up one of the round black chips and moved it forward one space on the board's alternating red and black squares. "The starships burst forward one quadrant at a time. Now when they engage an enemy ship, they fly over diagonally, like this, and drop a bomb. That destroys the ship, removing it from the game." He picked up a red piece and tossed it alongside the board. "You follow me so far?"  
  
Crais rested his chin in one hand and nodded.  
  
"Now if one of your starships does happen to make it all the way to the enemy base, which is the opposite end of the board, they can activate reverse thrust. That ship can then move forward and backward. Ships with reverse thrust are two tiered." He stacked two black pieces together to demonstrate. "And if you encounter an enemy ship . . . you have to bomb it."  
  
"No mercy," Crais confirmed.  
  
"None," Crichton stated with resolve. "You ready to give it a try?"  
  
"If you wish; however I would prefer to be the black army."  
  
Crichton smirked and cocked his head apologetically. "Sorry, but I'm already set up to be black this time. Maybe next game."  
  
Crais stood, lifted the board and carefully rotated it 180 degrees until the black pieces were positioned in front of him. After returning to his seat, he folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin a dench.  
  
"I'll let you go first," Crichton said, trying not to let slip how pissed off he was over what Crais had just done. "This can be a practice game. The last army with a ship wins."  
  
Crais made his first move without hesitation.  
  
Crichton narrowed his eyes, sliding a red piece slowly forward. He left his finger on top of the chip, swirling a fingertip around its edge. After several microts he raised his hand and eased back from the table. "Just one more thing, once you move a ship and take your hand off . . . off the throttle, that's it. There's no turning back. You got it?"  
  
"Agreed," Crais said, swiftly making his second move.  
  
Crichton grew more circumspect with each move. He watched in unaccustomed silence as Crais bombed the last red ship with half the black chips still remaining on the board. Even in victory, the expression on the Sebacean's face never varied. After moving the final red chip to the side of the board, Crais took a sip of the tea, observing the human's reaction with a curious tilt of his head.  
  
"Okay," Crichton said, clearing his throat, "practice game over. He began to slide the pieces back into their starting position on the board with the black on his side. " Are you ready to play for keeps now?"  
  
"Actually, I am due to relieve Aeryn in command." Crais slid his chair back and stood, lingering for a microt. "Perhaps another time."  
  
"Sure, I'll leave the board set up here."  
  
Crais dipped his head in farewell and walked away. From the galley, he proceeded quickly to command. His arrival there surprised Aeryn, who had not expected to be relieved for another arn.  
  
"Is everything all right?" she asked. "You're early."  
  
"I wanted to review the latest regenerative feedback disc from where the hull breach occurred. I'm pleased to say that Talyn is presently registering only minor discomfort from the wound. It would appear the clorium patch is speeding the healing process." Noticeably preoccupied, Crais strolled the perimeter of command, allowing one hand to slide along the edge of each control panel.  
  
"That is good news," Aeryn said. "Anything else?"  
  
He glanced over, his expression curious. He seemed to search carefully for the right words. "As a child, did you ever play Amphibian?"  
  
Aeryn cocked her head and smiled. "The game where you leap over your opponent to knock them in the pond? And once you reach the other side you're an adult amphibian and can hop in either direction?"  
  
"Yes," Crais nodded. "That is the one."  
  
Her gentle laugh recalled the memory fondly. "We called it Toads. It was the first board game I ever played. It was meant to teach us strategy; how to devise a plan of attack that varied based on the opponent's response. I haven't thought of it in 20 cycles. Why do you ask?"  
  
He answered with an odd smile and subtle shake of his head. Before she could question him further, Crais moved to a surveillance display and began to key in requests for the past arn's visuals. "Good night, Aeryn," he said softly, his back to her.  
  
# # #  
  
Nebra reminded Crichton of a George Lucas film made on a B movie budget. Every bigheaded, bug-eyed creature he had ever imagined, plus some he had not, walked, rolled or slithered along its narrow stone streets. Still, there was one sight far stranger than all the rest . Crais with his hair cascading down, wearing a loose, white shirt with a pale blue vest laced loosely in the front.  
  
"Just who are you supposed to be again?" he asked Crais, eyeing his dark curls with a bemused grin.  
  
Crais was too busy sidestepping an Argouille about twice his size, to care about the human's inane comments. There was no law on Nebra. Not even the Peacekeepers cared enough about the commerce planet to maintain a presence. One either did his best to avoid trouble here, or caused it. For the next few arns Crais was determined to keep a low profile.  
  
"I have conducted the negotiations under the name Raben, Captain Raben. Although I see no reason for you to be called upon to speak during the meeting, simply referring to me as sir or captain should be sufficient." He reached over and jerked Crichton out of the path of two snarling Tarruccas. "Watch your step. A Tarrucca bite is lethal," he warned.  
  
"I'll be Solo," Crichton stated. "Han Solo."  
  
"I see no reason to introduce you as anything."  
  
Crichton gave his Sebacean companion a thoughtful glance. "Tell me something Crais, is not having a personality painful or is it like tonsils, once they're gone you just don't miss them?"  
  
"I have no knowledge on either count," he replied curtly. "You perhaps would be the better judge."  
  
Crichton laughed, shaking his head as he continued to follow Crais through the alleyways toward the industrial section of the city. They arrived at their destination, a three-story brick structure, without incident. Ever the strategist, Crais worried they might be too early. He decided to wait half an arn in a nearby hostelry before making contact with the Viridians. He selected an inconspicuous table in the back and ordered two cups of vrekk, a nonalcoholic fruit juice, without consulting Crichton.  
  
"It is best we do not appear too eager," Crais explained, selecting a chair that allowed him an unobstructed view of the door.  
  
"The negotiation is already done, right?" Crichton asked. "We're just here to inspect the merchandise and make the swap."  
  
"That is correct."  
  
Crais paid the server for their beverages. He sipped the pulpy, blue liquid, his eyes constantly surveying the room over the top of the cup. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the first prostitute who approached their table.  
  
"You know, she wasn't bad looking for a bald woman," Crichton grinned and arched his brow. "I could lend you a kretma, if you're short."  
  
The comment straightened Crais more so than usual. "And what makes you think that I would ever have to pay for such a service?"  
  
"Well for starters, that little lack of personality problem that I mentioned earlier. Although I imagine when you were a captain, some women, especially those interested in a promotion, were occasionally able to get past that."  
  
Crais let his eyes speak for him. Crichton immediately wished he had not started down that road. Now was definitely not a good time to get into a pissing match. To his credit, Crais let it go.  
  
Crichton cheeks puckered as he swallowed the vrekk, which tasted similar to lemonade without enough sugar. Another couple of working girls approached the table only to be rejected by a menacing look from Crais. The exPeacekeeper continued to silently scan the room, never letting down his guard. It was no accident Bialar Crais had survived for this long.  
  
"Scorpius and Braca should have been picked up by now," Crichton observed after a lengthy silence. "Do you think he'll make it a priority to come after us right away or concentrate on trying to put the project back together?"  
  
"Considering that you *are* the project, I believe locating you will be his primary objective. I do not see him giving up that easily."  
  
Crichton leaned back into the chair, relinquishing a grin. "Yeah, that guy's a regular Wile E Coyote."  
  
"Y Lee Ki-o-tee?" Crais struggled through the pronunciation.  
  
"An Earth character," Crichton explained. "He is the *ultimate* loser. Doesn't know when to give up."  
  
Crais nodded and slid his chair back. "It is time for our meeting with T'sur."  
  
# # #  
  
Just when Crichton thought he had seen everything, something new always had a way of cropping up, like the Viridians. Besides being green, which was probably the least unusual aspect of their appearance, they also appeared not to have any joints. They were about the same size and shape as a human or Sebacean, but rubbery . a whole race of frelling Gumbies.  
  
Four guards met and escorted them from the warehouse door to T'sur's second- story headquarters, where they were instructed to wait. The room's long row of windows overlooked a maintenance bay where Talyn's five stabilizer pieces were being sanded and polished, presumably for their benefit. Suspecting surveillance, neither man spoke.  
  
An arn after their arrival, five Viridians, four men and a woman, entered the room. The woman moved forward and bent deeply at the waist. Crais stepped crisply forward in front of Crichton.  
  
"I am Vice-Counsel T'sur," she said in a voice identical to that of the males.  
  
"Captain Raben," Crais stated boldly, returning a slight bow.  
  
In turn, as each male stepped forward, T'sur stated his name and position. When she had finished, she looked to Crichton, who promptly took one large stride forward. Crais cleared his throat and announced, "This is crewmember . . . Y Lee Ki-o-tee."  
  
Crichton, who was midway through his bow, stopped for a microt before completing the gesture. His eyes flicked to Crais and then to the green woman, a wide, tight-lipped grin stretched across his face. Crais pivoted smartly, his attention turning to the stabilizer sections in the maintenance bay. T'sur moved to stand beside him.  
  
"Are the parts ready for delivery?" he asked.  
  
T'sur's upper torso twisted toward him. "Yes, they can be transported to the docking site within the arn. The supplies you requested are there already. Do you have another ship with which to transfer these items?"  
  
"Of course," Crais replied self-assuredly. "And the currency?"  
  
"The kretmas will be exchanged once we take possession of the marauder. They will be delivered to you at the landing dock."  
  
Crais raised his brow, hesitating a few microts. "Vice-Counsel, I believe the currency was due up front. I shall have to hold you to the terms of our agreement."  
  
"Yes, however we have not been given the opportunity to inspect the ship," she responded. As you can plainly see, we have completed our part of the bargain."  
  
"On the contrary," he replied smoothly. "You monitored the marauder's descent and landing. The ship has been scrutinized by close surveillance since our arrival. The torpedo bays are loaded and the tak-fives are visible with occulars. You know *exactly* what you are getting."  
  
A sly smile answered for T'sur. "Half now and half upon delivery."  
  
It was a matter of pride now; Crais knew that. T'sur could hardly back down in front of four subordinates. He nodded without taking his eyes from the krelmar extensions. "Agreed."  
  
Swiveling at the waist like a gun turret, T'sur gave the order to her closest aide with a subtle dip of her head. The male removed a pouch from inside his jacket, bounced it a couple of times in his hand and extended the bag to Crichton.  
  
"Five hundred kretmas," she said.  
  
# # #  
  
After leaving the warehouse, Crais made his final contact with the marauder by comm, which in turn, transmitted the pickup signal to Aeryn. Barring complications, she would arrive at the landing dock in one arn. The provisions and extensions should be there waiting, along with the remaining five hundred kretmas.  
  
The crowded, noisy streets thinned with the approach of nightfall. As Crais and Crichton worked their way through the alleys toward the rendezvous point, both men seemed worried. So far everything had gone according to plan, which was the problem. It was Crichton's idea to stop at the metalgoods shop, the commerce planet equivalent of a hardware store, for some threekay wire. As the young Sebacean storekeeper slipped into the back room to measure and cut the order, his extremely pregnant wife took their payment. Crais noticed that the human was acting even more peculiar than usual.  
  
Crichton grinned and nodded as the woman glanced up at him. "I see you're expecting."  
  
She smiled, her face flushed as she rested a hand atop her rounded stomach.  
  
He scratched his head questioningly. "Uhm . . . so how long does that take?"  
  
The color left her cheeks as quickly as it had come.  
  
Crais leaned slightly forward across the counter. "Pay him no mind. He is not right." He punctuated this statement by rolling his eyes back and giving a slow nod.  
  
She nodded in response. "I will see what is keeping my husband."  
  
Crais stepped away from the counter, pulling Crichton along with him. "What is wrong with you? Have you never seen a woman with child before?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous," he whispered. "Of course I have."  
  
"How long does *what* take?" Crais asked.  
  
"I was just curious how long a Sebacean woman's pregnancy lasts, that's all. No big deal." Crichton tried to put some distance between them by meandering the length of an aisle, but Crais remained at his heels.  
  
"You mean the term of gestation?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right."  
  
"Approximately ten monens," Crais replied. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"Look, I just wondered if it was the same as for humans. Okay?"  
  
"You seem uncomfortable," Crais observed.  
  
Crichton snorted a brief laugh. "Yeah, well *you* have that effect on people."  
  
Crais stepped into his path, refusing to let him pass. He leaned in, his voice now a growl. "Tell me that you have not-"  
  
"No . . . I have not gotten anyone pregnant! Now get out of my face."  
  
The shopkeeper emerged from the backroom with the wire, cutting short their conversation. Crais returned to the counter for the package and followed Crichton into the street. With less than half an arn until Aeryn's arrival, they headed for the landing dock, this time walking side by side.  
  
Crais spoke first. "And why should I believe what you tell me?"  
  
"Because it's the truth," Crichton replied, minus the attitude. "And now it's your turn."  
  
The former Peacekeeper glanced over.  
  
"Did you know that you and Talyn would survive the starburst inside the carrier?"  
  
Crais continued several paces before he stopped, turning to face the human. The answer appeared to challenge him for several microts. "I believed that we would most likely perish," he finally said. "However, there were two factors I could not predict. Any other Leviathan would not have survived the explosion, yet Talyn is unique. He was designed as a gunship, his shielding meant to withstand attack."  
  
"And the second factor?" Crichton asked.  
  
"The hull modifications," he replied. "Scorpius actually altered the molecular structure of the carrier's hull. He believed it one of the final pieces to accommodating wormhole travel. While I considered it possible that the carrier itself might absorb some of the energy, it was no more than an unfounded and untested theory."  
  
Crichton nodded. "Well, either way . . . thank you."  
  
After his initial surprise at the statement, a puzzled expression came over the Sebacean's face. "I did not do it for you. I believe I made myself quite plain in regard to my motivation."  
  
"I know," Crichton replied. "But you did it and that counts for something."  
  
Crais's dark eyes stared past the end of the murkily lit street. A hollow smile tugged at his cheeks. "In time we will see if it counted for anything." He was silent for a moment and then began to walk again.  
  
As they crossed from the retail sector to the rows of loading docks, the streets emptied. Muffled voices from the shadows contrasted the occasional roar of a ship breaking through the atmosphere to land. A landing beacon swept lazily back and forth from atop the Section 5 homing tower. Their destination, Section 5, Building 11, Loading dock 1, was located in the far corner of the complex.  
  
From a block away Building 11 appeared dark, its landing pad still empty. Crais and Crichton crept along the shadows, their backs against Building 10, both with weapons already drawn.  
  
Rattlers. Crichton had a nest of them. "Do you smell something rotten?" he whispered to Crais.  
  
Crais slowly rotated his head, drawing several deep breaths. "I smell nothing," he whispered back. "However, I am suspicious of the fact there are no Viridians waiting on the loading dock." He glanced over for Crichton's reaction, which was not what he expected. "Do you find something humorous about our situation?"  
  
He shook it off. "We either have to make sure that landing pad's secure or contact Aeryn to pull up."  
  
"Yes, you are quite correct," Crais said. "Cover me." Before Crichton could protest, he dashed between the buildings, hurled himself up onto loading dock one, rolled, came to his feet and disappeared inside the building.  
  
Crichton ran out of names to call Bialar Crais as he crouched in the shadows, covering the door. So far, there was no movement outside and it was too dark to see more than a few feet inside the building. He would give the Sebacean another five minutes, and then he was going in.  
  
Microts later, a flurry of pulse blasts lit up the inside of Building 11 like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Crichton raced across the street and leapt onto the dock. From the cover of a support beam he tried to spot Crais inside the building, but it was already dark again. Dozens of tall metal racks, most stacked high with cargo, separated the building into a labyrinth of aisles. He slipped inside the doorway, crouched and waited.  
  
"Crichton?" he heard Crais whisper over the comm.  
  
"Yeah . . . I'm here."  
  
"There are at least four of them. I may have hit one or two."  
  
Fast moving footsteps sounded from deep within the building.  
  
"Is that you?" Crichton asked.  
  
"No."  
  
The comm closed.  
  
Crichton slipped into a center aisle, advancing cautiously toward the noise, which suddenly stopped. He crept forward, listening between each step. He couldn't risk opening the comm and possibly revealing Crais's position. A board groaned under weight somewhere ahead of him. He waited and then began to inch forward again. The same sound, close, directly ahead.  
  
"Crais?" he whispered.  
  
The flash of a pulse pistol answered. Crichton dove aside as the blast toppled a rack stacked high with bolts of cloth on top of him. He managed to get off several shots on his way to the floor. Pinned from the waist down, he continued to fire blindly in the Viridian's direction.  
  
"I'm down," he gasped over the comm. "One, maybe two, headed toward the back side of the building. I can't . . . ugh." The weight of Crais climbing over the top of the mound of material cut short his report. "Damn it, would you get off of me."  
  
"Are you hit?"  
  
"No, I'm just stuck. Get this stuff off me."  
  
Crais began to throw the bolts aside, but suddenly froze, listening. "They are coming back."  
  
"Then hurry up," Crichton snarled.  
  
"No," Crais replied, crouching to whisper to the human. "Remain here. Be still."  
  
"Well no shit! Damn it, Crais, don't you dare leave me here." He was wasting his breath because the other man had already retreated into the darkness.  
  
Crichton watched two red tracking beams crisscross the aisle, moving progressively closer to his position. If he fired in their direction and missed, he was screwed. That left just one option, trust Crais. Either way, he figured he was screwed. He rested the pistol across his chest and tugged a length of cloth from one of the bolts across to conceal it. Two forms began to take shape in the darkness as the tracking beams found him.  
  
"Please don't shoot me," he said, raising his free hand above his head. "I surrender."  
  
"Unfortunately, you are of no value to us as a prisoner," one answered, just as Crais opened up.  
  
Both Viridians exploded on impact like two giant, green water balloons, blasting a foul smelling spray all over Crichton's face and torso. He coughed and sputtered, using the cloth to wipe as much away as possible. Crais emerged slowly from the shadows, his eyes huge.  
  
"Did you see that?" he asked.  
  
"What do *you* think?" Crichton snapped, still spitting green.  
  
After sliding a stack of bolts aside, Crais flipped the rack back to an upright position. "I have never seen a being disintegrate in that manner from pulse fire," he said while continuing to pull the mountain of material off the human.  
  
"Is that all of them?" Crichton asked as finally managed to slide free.  
  
"I believe there were originally four of them. The first two stopped returning fire after an exchange, however I did not see them turn into *that*. I am quite certain I hit them both though."  
  
Unfortunately, he was wrong. Two quick pulse blasts exploded the empty metal rack alongside him. Crais went down. Crichton sprayed the aisle with fire, his last shot sending up a green mushroom cloud fifty feet from their position. Even in the dim light, Crichton could see a dark stain spreading across the Sebacean's white shirt. He grabbed him beneath the arms and pulled him toward the door and into the light. Crais protested every step of the way.  
  
Crichton lifted his shirt to examine the wound. A metal fragment from the storage rack protruded three inches from Crais's side. The piece measured about half an inch in diameter. Crichton carefully gripped the end of the shard and gave it a slight tug. Crais growled and shoved him away.  
  
"I think I can get that out," Crichton told him. "You want me to try?"  
  
"No!" Crais groaned through clenched teeth.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, I am sure."  
  
Crichton reached in, grabbed the piece of metal and jerked it free. Crais screamed, first from pain and then anger. He glared at the human through watering eyes, panting for breath. Crichton tore one of the sleeves from Crais's shirt and folded it in quarters. He pressed it against the wound and placed the injured man's hand over it.  
  
"Keep pressure on it." He draped Crais's other arm across his shoulder and helped him to his feet. "Come on, our ride's here."  
  
# # #  
  
Aeryn waited until they cleared Nebra's atmosphere before asking, "What happened down there?"  
  
Crichton had the medical kit out and was trying to clean Crais's wound. He sat back on his haunches for a microt, dragging a green sleeve across his face. "I'm more curious right now *why* they let us leave."  
  
"I imagine they thought we would be dead when the transport arrived," Crais said, still breathing heavily. "The transport's crew would have been ambushed when they came out to take delivery. As it was, the Viridians had no way of knowing how many or how well armed a force they were up against. Plus, they had lost the element of surprise."  
  
Aeryn looked over her shoulder at both men. "So what the frell happened," she asked again, "and why are you green?"  
  
Crichton frowned and energetically pointed a finger toward the opposite side of the pod. When Crais turned his head to look, the human doused the wound with antiseptic and quickly arched back out of the way. Crais screamed something unintelligible as an eruption of foam bubbled from the hole in his side. His dark eyes flashed a stern warning at the other man.  
  
"Well let's see . . . what happened on John and Bialar's big adventure?" Crichton finger combed his green hair, stopping to pick Viridian from beneath his fingernails. "First we drank some blue stuff that tasted like shit, then Crais here almost got lucky with a bald woman. We waited an hour for Gumby to show up. Bialar attempted to make a joke, which no one got. No surprise there. Then the Viridians tried to kill us." He flashed Crais his most annoying grin. "Did I leave anything out?"  
  
"Oh yes," he replied smugly. "You forgot to mention the woman in the metalgoods shop."  
  
Crichton shot to his feet. "Shut up, Crais!"  
  
"No, you shut up," he growled back  
  
"Both of you shut up!" Aeryn shouted. "We've got a ship on our tail and it's closing fast."  
  
Crichton draped himself over her shoulder at the controls. "What is it? Peacekeepers?"  
  
Her hands raced across the panel pulling up the schematics. She slowly shook her head, turning her eyes up to meet his. "It appears to be *our* marauder."  
  
"Excellent," Crais muttered with a self-satisfied grin.  
  
"I've got news for you, Bialar," Crichton snapped, "I don't think they're here to give it back."  
  
Crais reached inside his vest and removed a small metal case. He tucked his elbow snugly against the bandage to hold it in place while he used both hands to pry open the holder. Six silver tubes, each about three hentas in length, lined the inside of the container. After removing one tube, he snapped the case shut and let it fall onto his lap. When Aeryn glanced over, he raised the object for her to see, holding it carefully between his thumb and forefinger. She nodded at him, a soft laugh escaping her lips.  
  
"What are those?" Crichton asked.  
  
"The detonator pins from the tak-fives," she replied.  
  
He gave an appreciative nod. "With no pulse cannons and now no tak-five torpedoes, I guess they'll have to wait until we land to kill us."  
  
"Crichton, bring me the tool kit," Crais said sharply.  
  
"What's the magic word?"  
  
"Hurry!"  
  
"Close enough," Crichton grumbled as he opened the storage compartment and removed the kit. He undid the latch and opened the small chest, dropping to one knee in front of Crais. "What do you need?"  
  
"Flat-headed pin, one-quarter nanometer."  
  
Crichton rummaged through the chest, selecting and holding up a pin.  
  
"That is one-half nanometer. Find one two sizes smaller. Quickly."  
  
As he waited, Crais opened the tube and carefully removed a small chip that was still connected by a threadlike, yellow wire. Crichton handed him the pin, which he used to enter a code sequence inside the slender silver casing. It beeped three times, stopped, hummed for several microts and then quit. A faint red glow blinked from inside the tube. "Range?" he asked.  
  
"Forty metras and closing," Aeryn replied.  
  
Crais glanced up at Crichton and arched a brow. He lowered the pin inside the casing to complete the final connection. A flash of light illuminated the view screen. From a distance of thirty metras, the explosion still rocked the pod as all six tak-five torpedoes detonated inside the marauder.  
  
"Remote detonators," Crichton said, letting loose a whistle.  
  
Crais gripped his side and eased back into the seat. "Fortunately they did not have time to perform a thorough check of the marauder's systems or they would have discovered the pins were missing."  
  
Seated on the floor across from him, Crichton leaned forward, elbows rested on his knees. He wet his lips, his expression clouding over. "There's one thing I don't understand. Why did the Viridians go to all the trouble of making the krelmar extensions? And since they were already made, why didn't they just give them to us? What the hell are they going to do with them? This whole thing can't be over a thousand kretmas, can it?"  
  
The transport's cabin grew still. Crais stared at Crichton, his blank expression suddenly twisted with a pain not inflicted by the hole in his side. His breath escaped him as he rocked his head in disbelief. "Talyn?" he whispered first, his voice quickly elevating to a shout. "This entire arrangement was only a smokescreen? A charade to steal Talyn?" As he struggled to stand, Crichton rushed over and gripped him by the shoulders.  
  
"Sit down! You're going to open that wound up again."  
  
"That does not matter," Crais snarled, resisting him.  
  
"Yes . . . it does," Crichton yelled back, refusing to release his grasp.  
  
Their eyes locked for a moment and Crais relented, falling back into the chair.  
  
Aeryn slipped from her seat behind the control panel, moving quickly to the treblin storage locker. She opened the compartment, reached inside and turned to the men, raising Crais's neural transponder in her hand. "I thought that you might worry. I knew you would want to contact Talyn as soon as we were close enough." She knelt beside his chair and gently rested the transponder in his hand. "We are close enough now."  
  
Crais placed the transponder behind his neck and adjusted it into the base. Keeping one hand cupped against it, he lowered his chin to his chest and pressed his eyes shut. Aeryn and Crichton waited, studying each other's face in turn, yet both knew the answer before he spoke. His voice faltered as he told them. "He is not there."  
  
Aeryn turned away. A microt later, her Peacekeeper mask back in place, she returned to her station.  
  
"How did they do it?" Crichton asked.  
  
Crais's blank stare remained fixed on the floor. "Synaptic bypass. They would simply have used manual controls. Talyn had no way of resisting or defending himself. He was alone and probably confused. He may have even gone willingly, thinking we had abandoned him."  
  
"Would they have taken him to Nebra?"  
  
"That is likely," Crais said with a faint nod. "All the facilities they require are readily available."  
  
Crichton's blue eyes took on an unexpected glint. He crouched in front of Crais's chair, his head cocked at a thoughtful tilt. "Would you be able to contact Talyn from orbit if he were on Nebra?"  
  
Crais raised his eyes to meet Crichton's gaze. "Yes . . . I should be able to."  
  
"Could you fly him out of there?"  
  
"If Talyn is agreeable." Crais nodded forcefully as he began to work out the scenario in his mind. "I could instruct him how to override their manual controls."  
  
"Then all we have to do is figure out how to get rid of a ship full of Gumbies."  
  
Crais offered a subdued smile. "You leave the Viridians to Talyn and me.  
  
"Aeryn-"  
  
Before Crichton could finish, she powered the pod into a hard right bank and sent the small craft speeding back toward the planet.  
  
# # #  
  
Within the arn, they were back in orbit above Nebra. Since the Viridians did not maintain a significant military presence there, and it was possible they were not yet aware of the marauder's loss, the crew expected the pod's presence to go unnoticed. Scans detected Talyn on the surface, in a hangar close to the original rendezvous point at Building 11. Crais quickly made contact with the Leviathan, his face relaxing into a smile.  
  
He continued to nod, raising his hand to silence Crichton's rapid stream of questions. "Talyn is *quite* pleased with the stabilizer extension," he finally reported. "He indicates that it feels very natural to him. In addition, the Viridians have almost finished applying the hydrohonium wrap. Apparently these were their primary concerns as they have made only a few other slight modifications."  
  
Aeryn's eyes shifted to John, to see if he had caught the way Crais skipped over his last few words. He had. They both stood over him now, arms folded.  
  
"What's the rest of it?" Crichton asked.  
  
"The rest of it?" he asked.  
  
"The part you are *not*telling us," Aeryn said sharply.  
  
Her tone refreshed his memory. He grimaced and shook his head with trepidation, engaging privacy mode. "Very well. The Viridians have armed Talyn. His weaponry is now fully automated, not manual."  
  
"Both cannons?" she asked.  
  
"Yes, in addition to reinstalling the interior, door-mounted pulse rifles."  
  
"Can you control him?" Crichton asked, point blank.  
  
Crais raised his brow a dench. "He seems rational and is quite anxious to return to us. Talyn has been through a great deal recently. Perhaps it has changed him. It is possible, isn't it?" He gave Aeryn an expectant look.  
  
She caught his drift and with a trace smile, nodded. "We have no other choice; he cannot stay with the Viridians. And without Talyn I doubt we will ever find Moya."  
  
"How soon can you get Junior up here?" Crichton asked.  
  
Crais placed his hand on the transponder as he concentrated on his communication with the hybrid. "The application of the sleeve has been completed. Talyn is ready."  
  
"Let's do it," Crichton said, sliding into the seat adjoining Aeryn at the controls.  
  
"Be ready to transmit our coordinates on my mark," Crais instructed. He started his communication with Talyn, paused and began again, the second time verbally. "I want you to make the interior of the ship hot, Talyn, very, very hot. Shut down the atmospheric regulator and block access to the override. Now seal the exhaust system, do not allow them to vent any of the heat outside. That is good. Yes, we want them to-"  
  
Crichton started to laugh out loud. He raised his green hands toward Aeryn, displaying them front and back. "I don't think Gumbies do too well in heat."  
  
"Well done, Talyn," Crais said proudly. "Next, I want you to secure the corridors they have vacated and concentrate the heat on . . . what? They are running? Very well, do not let them back on board." Crais signaled Aeryn and Crichton with his hand. "Transmit the coordinates now."  
  
"No, Talyn. That is not-"  
  
Still clutching his side, Crais rose slowly from the chair to stand behind Aeryn and Crichton at the controls. He continued to offer scattered words of encouragement to the Leviathan, an occasional nod serving as his progress report to the others. The hybrid's distinctive profile soon appeared in the distance. He soared toward them, his flight swift and confident.  
  
Before docking, Aeryn maneuvered the transport pod alongside Talyn's treblin stabilizer. The Viridians' had unknowingly held up their end of the bargain; the installation of the stabilizer and sleeve easily compensating for the loss of the kretmas and provisions. Except for the burnished hydrohonium sleeve, the damaged stabilizer appeared identical to the hammand side.  
  
"We should leave immediately," Crais said as they descended the ramp onto Talyn's main hangar deck.  
  
"First, you will accompany me to medical rejuvenation." Aeryn said. "I can properly treat that wound."  
  
"No," Crais insisted. "That can wait until we-'  
  
"What did he do?" Crichton asked, feet planted, arms draped across his chest.  
  
Crais's eyes narrowed. "It was not his fault," he snapped. "After the Viridians left the ship, Talyn sealed the bulkheads to prevent them from reentering. One of them fired at him in an attempt to force him to reopen the doors."  
  
Aeryn groaned. "And he returned fire."  
  
"How bad?" Crichton asked.  
  
Crais clenched his jaw against the pain in his side and continued to stride toward command. "I would imagine he left a rather large green puddle."  
  
Crichton smiled despite himself. More than anything he wanted to go take a shower, but instead, he dutifully followed the two Sebaceans. What was it that frog said? It ain't easy being green. Some days, nothing was easy.  
  
# # #  
  
Crais scrutinized the star charts, frustrated by his lack of options as he tried to lay in a course. He exhaled in a gust and pushed back a handful of tousled black hair from his face. He and Talyn had managed to elude the Peacekeepers for over a cycle, but that was before he had raised the stakes on Scorpius. Returning to Auzool was out of the question; the Viridians would be there waiting for them. There was no other choice; Talyn needed time to heal. He set a course taking them deep into the uncharted territories. Moya and her crew would have to wait.  
  
"So far there's no pursuit from the surface," Crichton reported. "Talyn's parting shot may have changed T'sur's mind about coming after us."  
  
Crais grunted an acknowledgment. "Apparently, Talyn also felt it necessary to forcibly encourage their departure from the ship. There are remains of two Viridians in the maintenance bay and another in the galley. You may want to deal with them before you bathe."  
  
"Or not," Aeryn arched away from him at the panel, her nose wrinkling. "I think we could spare you long enough to go wash that off. What is it, anyway?"  
  
"Eau de Viridian," he said with a grin. He lifted his arms away from his side, lowering his chin to inspect the splotches covering his chest. "I have never seen pulse fire have that effect on anything before. You'd have to see it to believe it. They splatter like trat through a ventilator duct."  
  
"You mean, that's a . . ." Aeryn's face creased from more than the smell. "Go wash *now*. Crais and I should be finished when you return. I'll dress his wound then and-"  
  
Crichton saw the first faint bleep register on the monitor. "What the hell is that?"  
  
Crais had picked up the signal from Talyn at that same instant and now concentrated on the Leviathan's steady stream of images. "It is a vessel on the extreme edge of long-range sensors. I am unable to identify it, or I should say . . . them."  
  
"Three, no, make that four ships," Aeryn reported.  
  
"Viridians?" Crichton asked.  
  
Aeryn remained curled over the monitor, continuing to shout out the rising sequence of numbers. Crais moved alongside them. He placed a hand against the panel to steady himself, his breathing heavy, his face tense. At fifteen, Aeryn stopped counting. Crichton watched the tiny beads of light continue to spill into the outer edges of the monitor.  
  
"Prowlers" Aeryn reported. "At least four squadrons and one larger ship, still too far out of range to identify."  
  
"It is likely a Pantak cruiser," Crais said. "Scorpius."  
  
"Can we run?" Crichton asked. "There's too damn many of them to fight."  
  
"And yet, Talyn will try," Crais said calmly and with an air of finality. "I suggest the two of you depart immediately for Nebra in the transport pod. Although the Peacekeepers will conduct an extensive search of the planet's surface, if you are not found, they may eventually believe you were destroyed along with Talyn and myself."  
  
"You're carrying this hero thing a bit far, aren't you?" Crichton muttered.  
  
"I assure you, I have no interest in being a hero, but our options are limited. Each microt you delay lessons your chances for survival."  
  
"Can we starburst?" Aeryn asked.  
  
Crais threaded the fingers from one hand through his hair, his vague expression answer enough. "Talyn is, of course, willing to try. However, I have not had sufficient time to fully analyze the repairs, nor make adjustments. I do not know the exact range of tolerance. If the stabilizer is not sufficiently in balance and the energy surge is channeled unevenly, Talyn could enter the space-time dimension seam asymmetrically and be jettisoned from its energy stream with a slightly displaced configuration."  
  
"We'll be torn apart on the other end," Aeryn acknowledged.  
  
Crais nodded. "I want you to leave."  
  
Aeryn folded her arms across her chest, giving the pretense of thought, although her decision had already been made. "Not this time, Bialar."  
  
Crichton knew he didn't stand a chance in hell of changing her mind, so he didn't waste precious time trying. At least it had made his choice easy. "That stabilizer is what you would call an *unknown factor*," he said, giving Crais a calculated look. "Let's talk about what we know for certain. If we stay here, we are going to get our asses kicked. However it goes down, we're all in this one together."  
  
Crais looked at each in turn, this woman he had condemned to death, and this human he had vowed to kill. Perhaps someday he would understand them. As he stared out the view screen into a void that would soon be swarming with prowlers, he traced the outline of his goatee between his thumb and forefinger, his head cocked in thought. "On the other hand, simply because the Viridians are unreliable in negotiations should not reflect on their reputation for unparalleled workmanship. I have no reason to believe they did not construct the extension to my exact specifications."  
  
He closed his eyes and held a brief conversation with the fourth member of the crew. For once, it seemed they were all in agreement. When he looked up, Aeryn and Crichton were at his side, both faced forward, watching the first prowler take shape in the distance.  
  
Crais's hand left his wound. He carefully straightened his shoulders and brought his hands behind his back. A thin smile curled his lips.  
  
"Talyn . . . starburst."  
  
The End 


End file.
